


growing sleepy.

by lovedowoon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 20:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14065401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovedowoon/pseuds/lovedowoon
Summary: tsukishima is a cute, mysterious boy who laughs at things like "shitty boys" and i love him a lot. drink some water every “ah,” or “oh,” to stay hydrated





	growing sleepy.

when you come to, you’re dreaming about a childhood memory. after a long trip, you’d pretended to fall asleep in the back of the car, too cozy to get up. you giggled when your guardian poked you, but tried so hard to act asleep that they sighed and carried you home. you miss it: the sleep weighing you down, soft baby hair falling all over, smushing your face into their warm shoulder. which reminds you, it feels like you’re currently smushing your face into a warm shoulder. too sleepy to panic just yet, you look around you.

rubbing your eyes, you find a warm sunset passing by through windows. you’re on a train. passengers scatter throughout: there’s a lady with a pretty hijab talking on the phone, two kids playing a game next to their mom, people in various uniforms on their phones. looking down you find a few petals scattered on the linoleum floor, right next to the bags filled with flowers, cacti, and other plants leaning on your shoes. oh, right. you went to the flower market today. you’d wanted to for a long time.. who did you.. you lift your head and look up.

at your movement, a student your age looks up from his phone. he's wearing casual pe clothes, and has a sports bag next to him. your first thought is that he’s pretty--cute hair, glasses, long eyelashes framing golden eyes-- and your second is _oh my god._

“i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

he calmly removes his headphones, making you hope that he’s nice-- “finally. is picking daisies really that tiring? my shoulder’s sore.”

you blink. _i’m the one who just woke up and he’s the one who’s grumpy._ “i- i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i woke up early to go to this flower market..”

you’d expected him to leave you alone at that, since he seemed annoyed, but he continued.

“a flower market, huh? what’d you even do there all day?” “ah, i just-” “wow, talk about stopping to smell the roses.” he laughs at his own corny joke. _he doesn’t have to be so mean about it._

“asshole.” you mutter. you begin gathering your bags to move seats when he lightly holds your arm.

“ah, hey, who’s the asshole? you fall asleep on me for an hour then leave. seriously, how annoying.”

you look back and he’s looking at you expectantly. for some reason, despite his biting words, you realize it feels like he’s only joking with you. you sit back on the edge of the seat.

“oh, that reminds me! what was the last stop?”

“shakuyaku.”

“ok, that’s good.” you slump back in your seat next to the tall boy.

“but-- wait, that isn’t _an hour_ away from where i got on. that’s only like-” “oh, _i’m_ sorry.” he gives you a look that should say ‘whatever, princess’ but looks more ‘cute’, “fifty-nine minutes. but you’re heavy, i wasn’t lying when i said my shoulder’s sore. it’d be annoying if it still hurt tomorrow for practice.”

“oh, what do you-- wait, what did you say?” you’re interrupted by the train conductor through the speakers and he laughs at you behind his hand.

“did you just- are you implying,”

“i said your head’s heavy. what’s the problem?” he grins at you while the gears in your head work _. ...oh._ “but, if you’re worried about your weight, don’t be. if i were you, i’d worry more about,” he lists down on his long fingers: “spending all day in a flower market, falling asleep on people on the train, or,” he side-eyes you, and his _eyes—_ you swear they’re golden, glimmering with mirth and boyish charm. for the first time, you laugh, and they turn into crescents behind his glasses.

“but, you said you have practice tomorrow? for what?” you ask. while prickly at first, this _(cute)_ boy is starting to grow on you. _(he’s cute)_

“volleyball.” you don’t miss the spark in his eyes, or how he tries to hide it. “i’m a middle blocker.”

you smile at him. “is it fun?”

“it’s.. ok. i’m not as passionate as my teammates. it’s kind of a hassle.” for some reason, you doubt he really looks at it that way.

“you must be really good at it, huh?” something about his sports bag and bandaged fingers just gives you that impression. he’s about to deny it when you say, “by the way, i didn’t get your name.” he scratches the back of his head, rustling his headphones.

“idiot, you dont..” he looks at you, then glances away. “why are you so interested in me all of a sudden? i’m tsukishima.”

“i’m [y/n], sorry for falling asleep on you. i’ve been wanting to go to this flower market for a long time now, but it’s a long commute.”

“hm.” you feel his gaze weigh down on you. “why’d you want to go?”

“well..” the train rumbles on as you think. the sky is now deepening pink and blue. it’s that time of day where the sky changes so quickly, if you’re too engrossed in a conversation you blink and it’s getting dark out. one or two stars are out - or helicopters, this _is_ still the city. the crescent moon is visible through the window behind you, trying to look mysterious but unable to hide its shine. “to be honest, at first i wanted to go with a- a partner.” he laughs, and you chuckle a little. “but, i don’t have one, so i might as well buy these for myself. i do love plants a lot, after all.” he looks at you silently. “each one is unique, and it was just— magical to walk through all the bundles of plants and flo-” he snorts.

“it was magical to go through all those bundles of plants, huh?”

“wh- oh my god.” you hide your smile behind your hand, but find yourself laughing despite yourself.

“no wonder you spent all day there. and you fell asleep, too—“ _oh my god,_ “it all makes sense now. you don’t have anything in those bags, do you?” “i just-”

“i know what you mean, idiot.” he grins at you, and your heart leaps. “what _do_ you have in those bags?” you adjust them a bit since they’d started to slump,

“small plants, mostly, like cacti. and some flowers i might dry.” he furrows his brows.

“cacti?” you smile at him, used to being questioned about your unusual interest.

“i like them, they’re low maintenance. some of them have flowers, or different spines, and they come in all sorts of shapes.”

“but- the spines.”

“you just have to be careful. besides, there’s a reason for those, y’know.” you check your phone for a notification. “it minimizes water loss, protects them from animals, uh, photosynthesis..”

“ah, you sure do know a lot about cacti. did you look that up?” you laugh, “maybe,” and put away your phone.

“but seriously, cacti are underrated; here,” you bring one of the bags on your lap, “look.” he peers into the paper bag, skeptical look on his face, then blinks.

“they’re.. cute.” he looks soft for a moment in the dim light, then it's gone and he smirks at you. “they look like the kind of thing a grandma keeps at her windowsill. what are you, a cacti lady?” _oh my god._ “haha, maybe.”

“let me see the rest.” you light up at his interest, smiling as you pick up the bags, and he isn’t having it -- “what, do i have anything better to do? stop smiling like that.” but he looks through them anyway, examining each leaf like something that might break if he touches it, a focused look on his face like he's trying to remember each one.

you look around, you're officially out of the city, with fields stretching on for miles, and not many people are left on the train. it rumbles on. it's been a long ride, but you're almost home.

“where do you get off?”

“hm?” he looks up at you from his phone. was he writing something down? “oh, uh.” he looks up at the guide, trying to think, then shrugs and says, “yozora.”

“wh- that was the last stop! why didn't you get down?”

he looks annoyed, like he doesn't want to have to explain himself. “it's your fault for bringing too many bags with you.”

“what kind of excuse-”

“just let me bring you home. you get off at nemutai, right?” you are.. suddenly very scared. “what?” he sighs. “we go to the same school, idiot. stop looking at me like that.” _wait._

“what??” he flicks your forehead and grabs a few of your bags, while you’re trying to remember..

“just- gather your things, we’re almost at your stop,”

“wait- you’re tsukishima kei!”

he sighs. “i’ll explain on the way.”

 

you get off the train in a haze, trying to put the pieces together as you give both yours and his tickets, _“you’re carrying too many bags, let me do it. you only gave me like two.”_ and before you know it your feet are leading you to a jollibee as he follows you along. when you see the bee mascot at the entrance smiling at you, you snap out of it and realize your mistake. “ah, i'm sorry!” he looks at you questioningly and pulls down his headphones.

“you gonna treat me?”

“i usually go here after school to eat.. we can go this way-” for some reason, he looks.. relieved?

“and let me go home alone _and_ hungry? you’re too cruel to me, [y/n].” instead of waiting for your response, he starts walking inside, searching the menu.

you still can't put together why he’s doing all this for you, this boy from your school you’ve never even-- _“what are you getting?” “uh, spaghetti and chicken.” “basic.”_ \--you’ve never talked to before, but you’re hungry, you suppose he is too, and you're getting closer to the cashier. _eat first, over think later._

he gets a burger steak and a strawberry tea float, then you both sit down. as it turns out, you can't wait until you're done eating to over think, and pester tsukishima between bites.

“why didn’t you say anything?”

“'s your fault for not recognizing me.”

“we’re in different classes!”

“we take the same train every day, [y/n].”

“how was i supposed to-”

“shut up and eat.”

you take one whole bite before piping up again. “if you get off at yozora, how’d you know my stop was the next one?”

“yamaguchi gets off there, too. please, i’m not pathetic enough to-”

“yamaguchi?”

“a classmate.” you raise your eyebrows,

“..the pinch server on our team.” you grin, and he sighs, giving in.

“my friend.” you laugh.

then, after sipping from his drink, which he glares at you for,

“why are you bringing me home?”

“what is this, an interview?”

“i can handle carrying these on my own.”

he scoffs, “yeah, and fall face down on the pavement when you try to fall asleep on someone else's shoulder.”

“haha, hey-”

“you should've seen yourself earlier, pushing through the crowd to collapse right next to me.” he steals two of your fries, “knockout. i sneaked a picture for blackmail, so stop complaining.”

you sputter. “wh- are you serious?”

he sighs and flicks your forehead. “of course i didn’t. kuroo goes through my phone when he sees me, and he'd get the wildest.. anyway.” he puts away his plate, “you looked pathetic getting on the train like that. also,” he pushes his glasses up a matter of factly. “i don’t want to go home yet. my mom’s serving vegetable stew.”

“..what?”

“i saw the opportunity for an excuse and took it.”

..his face is completely serious. you start to laugh. “are you..” he sips his drink blankly.

“what, did you think you were a k-drama protagonist?” he snickers. “cacti lady.”

“okay first of all, that’s corny--” he scoffs. “second of all, you don’t seem like the kind of person to go out of your way like this-” “ah, it’s starting to get dark, isn’t it?” “-for someone you don’t even..”

he responds by quietly picking up your bags and getting up.

“we should go.” he said he’d explain himself, but you only find with yourself with more questions. you stare at the back of his head as you leave, and you can’t tell if you’re just imagining his ears turning red.

 

“so,” you start on your way home, “i never asked where you were coming from.” he looks up at the sky,

“ah, so the interview continues.” you pass under a street-light. despite his long legs, he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. _shouldn't he be heading home by now?_

“we had a practice match.” you bend over a bit to smile at him as you walk, “and?” he glances at you from the corner of his eye and you swear your heart flutters, “..it was ok. a hassle.”

“hm.” he doesn't seem to want to talk about it.

the sound of cicadas echoes throughout your neighborhood, and a few cars pass by. “what time do you have to be home?” you ask.

“by 10. it’s,” he checks his phone, “it’s 8. it’ll only take me a half an hour or so to get home.” you grin and nod towards a playground nearby. “can i steal some of your time?”

“as if you haven’t already.”

 

you sit at a swingset losing its color, and he stands in front of you, scowling. “what are we, kindergarteners?”

“what?” you kick at the sand a little, getting some sand on his shoes, and he jumps- “oi!”

you laugh and pat the swing next to you, then start swinging back and forth, gaining momentum. he grumbles as he sets the bags down. “i’m too tall for this. too old- we’re _both_ too old for this.”

you huff. “grandpa.”

“toddler.”

“fry stealer.”

“drink stealer.”

“tsundere.”

he scoffs. “cacti lady.”

“beanpole.”

“narcoleptic.”

you laugh, “smartass!”

“asshole.”

“asshole.” you stare at each other in the middle of your swings, and he’s scowling at you, but then suddenly- the air sparks up and he bursts into laughter. you chuckle out of surprise at first, taken aback by how _bright_ he is, then find yourself laughing too. it must be the fatigue, or his strawberry tea float, or this long, odd day bearing down on you both. every time you finally start quieting down, you glance at each other, remembering something that happened earlier-

“ _i_ _opened up to you and you,”_

_“bundles of plants_ , _” “and you thought i was a stranger but still called me asshole,”_

_“i was wondering why you were being so casual!”_ -and start laughing again.

“you said-” you breathe. “you said you’d explain yourself on the way home.” he chuckles and pushes his glasses up.

“ah, i did say that. i was hoping you’d forget.” you laugh, kicking your legs some more.

“you..” he thinks for a bit, and when you glance at him he’s looking right at you, back and forth, undeterminable look on his face.

“i like you.”

_wait.._ _what_? you kick at the sand, skidding to a halt and bouncing awkwardly until you still, clouds of sand drifting away.

“what?” you stare at him wide eyed and he looks away. he seems to be content with just that, looking around, not saying anything more. it's like he just told you the weather, but his ears are red.

_does he really- wait, oh my god,_ your grip on the ropes tightens. he must be giving you time to think, but your brain goes nowhere. _aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa--_

_"what?"_

he sighs, but it comes out choppy, like he’s shuddering,

“do i have to spell it out for you? just get your rejection over with.” _he thinks i don't- it's so obvious -- wait, but-_

“wh-” “if you say ‘what’ again--” “i just..” your heart beats in your ears, and you try to form words.

“that.. doesn’t make sense. we just met, i didn’t even recognize you-”

“that sounds like _your_ problem.” you cough out a laugh despite yourself at his scowling, blushing face. _what is even going on,_

he sighs. “in the welcoming ceremony, while the dean was speaking, you fell asleep-”

“wait, since we started _high school?_ ”

he shushes you, “do you want me to explain or not?” you quiet down and sit, trying to wrap your head around the three, simple words he said. _he likes me. he likes me. what the actual-_

“yamaguchi noticed you first. we laughed at you.” “h-” “we’re in different classes, but i saw you everyday on the train. evidently, you’re too much of a sleepyhead to notice.” you stare at him as he slouches on a swing, bags of plants sitting nearby. he’s looking anywhere but you as he tells you how he- how he-- “i never told you because you went home with a boy one time. i'm assuming you broke up?”

you perk up. “what?” _when did i…_

“ah.. tsukishima, do you mean my cousin?” he stares at you blankly, then scowls, and you burst into laughter,

“idiot, then why were you clinging to him,” “i was sick that day! i needed someone to bring me home..” “then this whole time i was holding back because-”

“you never _talked_ to me, tsukishima.” you chuckle, half endeared, half disappointed.

“well, i'm talking to you now.”

it gets quiet. after a while, you speak up. “i think.. you'd make a good boyfriend, tsukishima.” “-to someone else? please, save me the pleasantries and let me go home already.” he grumbles.

you laugh, “let me finish!”

“even if your words are harsh, or you tease,” “h-” “i can tell by your actions that you’re a kind person.” he scowls, blushing. you look at him one more time before you make your decision.

“tell me again.”

he blinks and looks up at you. “what?”

“actually talk to me in school, and let me get to know you, and this yamaguchi, and let me watch you play.. and then tell me again. i'll give you a proper answer, and not just sand in your mouth.”

“ahh, i told you, if you're going to reject me-”

you get frustrated by his insecurity. why is he so sure you'll reject him?

“ _tsukishima,_ did you hear what i said at all? i was going to be vague about it, but here’s a hint: i won't reject you. so stop thinking that.”

he looks at you, surprised, then grins. “oh? i was just teasing you, but..”

_wait, did i just--_ he stands up and mockingly bows. “i'll look forward to it, then! please, take care of me when you _don’t_ reject me. ah, i wonder what that means?” and he’s teasing you as you sit laughing in embarrassment on your swing, but you can tell his smile is genuine.

 

the rest of the walk home is quiet, as you think and think and think and he puts his headphones on to let you be. something about your gaze is distant, but the jittery feeling of _someone likes me_ still bubbles through you. you jump when his arm brushes against yours and he snickers every time.

you stop in front of a plain house, the lights on so you can see the various plants taking over each windowsill. he snickers. “do you even have room for these?”

“i can make some.”

he hums, handing you the bags then stretching. “do you think you can make it, sleepyhead?”

“haha, i’ll manage.” you adjust the bags in your hands and look up at him, starry-eyed, which he scowls at.

“what.”

“thank you. have a safe trip.” he blushes, and you start walking up to your porch.

“i have no say in the matter.” you laugh, opening the door. the last thing tsukishima hears before you go inside is laughter, and, “then die!”

 

the next morning, you wake up dreaming of sleepy train rides, tunnel light passing by through windows, walking down a street-light lit path. and when your guardian tells you to wake up -- sand getting kicked up and clouding up your dream state -- you pretend to be asleep, tired from the day before. the tall boy in your dreams can carry you home.


End file.
